#so uh. this is something 👀

[azul-marie]

leon. (brume)

fem. reader. angst, suggestive mentions.

your husband is a stranger.

the man you married months ago has been reduced to nothing, ground to bits, reborn as a soldier, a tool, a puppet. he is no longer yours; he will never be again.

the color of the sky, his eyes shone bright, now sullen and sunken with unspoken hurt. hollow cheeks from missed meals, dark bags from little sleep. of these things and more, he says nothing. shares nothing. and you let him be, out of love, out of fear, to keep the distance between the two of you from growing further apart.

nevertheless, he treats you much the same. still kisses you soft, still holds you close in all the ways he knows you like. but there is a new edge behind his movements. unfamiliar. paranoid. his hands, calloused in places they weren’t before, grip too tightly your own when you’re out and about. his unnerving stares towards alleys and doorways, his too quick response to his hip at every sound. was he always this way? or was it the city, the hell that brought it out?

leon, you’d whisper, come lay down and rest.

he listens. in the evenings he curls up next to you, lets your scent, your warmth, engulf him like a cloud. a tangible reminder of what he wants to protect. lets you tuck his face close up against your heart. he listens to its beating until it slows to a pulse, then slips away to stand guard at the front door again. and when you wake up alone in the dark, you pretend his version in your dreams sleeps soundly besides you.

leon, your arms hug around his waist, make love to me today.

he listens. be it by day or moonlight, he indulges you in every way you ask. his too rough hands grabbing, bruising, taut muscles grown slick with sweat and lips parting to kiss at your breasts. this body is unfamiliar, no matter the pleasure it brings. his newly assigned training, grueling and relentless, has wrung out every bit of softness he once had — he is sharp, cutting at your flesh, pulling and shaping you beyond what you knew. who is this stranger, loving you as he did? who is this man, whose dark eyes you avoid when he looks at you?

“leon,” you plead, sorrow in your throat, “please tell me you love me.”

he is quiet. stops stuffing his go-bag with mission ready supplies, beckoned by an early morning phone call before dawn even crackled through the sky. a part of him wishes to throw this godforsaken bag out the door, or crush his phone into the pavement and hope he finds a way to keep from being found. another wishes you’d just go back to sleep.

“you know i do.” he replies without turning around, voice heavy with a humorless sort of huff. a disbelieving sound. “don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“just tell me, please. say it before you go.” your voice breaks faintly at the end.

leon turns and peers so intensely at you that tears swell forth in your eyes. it prevents you from discerning his expression. was it one of pity? exasperation? you bury your face into your hands, woe bubbling up like a spring.

strong arms embrace you. whispers of affirmation dull against your sobs, against the outpour displaying your silent suffering. if only you could find comfort in this man’s arms. in the way he kisses your seasalt tears across your cheeks, how tenderly he runs his hands through your hair. through the blur, you see the youth of your love, the hopeful candor who was once your leon. when you blink, then blink again, it is the face of a jaded, somber man who gazes at you the same way he did, once upon a dream.

“i do. i swear i do.” leon insists. he presses kiss after kiss on every inch of your pretty face, unsure how else to soothe you. “you’re everything to me, remember? you’re why i’m still here. you’re all i have. please don’t cry, darling. i love you, i love you.”

you close your eyes. bask in the noise. if you try hard enough, you can still make out the soft cadence of your leon’s voice hidden beneath his baritone pain. but it’s not him, is it? it’s not anymore. try, try harder, and perhaps you’ll learn to love him like the leon he was before. maybe then his kisses wouldn’t feel like thorns, and his hugs wouldn’t choke you blue.

“i just want you back. that’s all i really want. please stay here, don’t leave me waiting alone.

oh, leon, please don’t go again.”

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[rogueddie]

So Noah is openly being a zionist online... AGAIN. I'm seeing a lot of people wanting to leave the fandom- which I support, if you can drop this then you should. But if you're like me and it's not that simple, here are a couple rough tips that might help;

Pro-tip; instead of paying for Netflix and helping support genocide and the zionists in the cast/crew, cancel your subscription and send that money to charities that are bringing aid and resources into Gaza!

Pro-tip 2; buy fan content and nothing liscenced! Fan works are often better quality than the show- from drawings, to writing, to pins... it's worth the money and you aren't sending money to people openly supporting genocide and the murder of children!

Pro-tip 3; if you are going to continue taking part in fandom, like myself, do not do so in silence. Palestinians are being murdered and we can't pretend that it isn't happening simply because we have hyperfixations that we can't get rid of.

Pro-tip 4; join boycotts! Not only the monetary boycott of Netflix and Stranger Things, but- at least- the three main boycotts; McDonalds, Disney+ and Starbucks! There are many others, from Puma to Barclays to Booking.com to Pizza Hut to Burger King... None of these things are necessities and you can easily go without! Other options are probably cheaper and better quality too! It's a win-win!

Pro-tip 5; Go to protests if you can! Make your voice heard not only online but in person too! We have strength in numbers and we cannot lose the momentum we've barely started to build! Take direct action!

P.S. biggest fuck you to Noah Schnapp but also; Ross Duffer, Shawn Levy and Brett Gelman can suck the shit right out my ass <3

[cauldron-burn-and-fire-bubble]

jarthur as the album cover for s16 by woodkid (reference under cut)

[jkgnggj]

Actually I got the order wrong previously. My past friend @leftglass on Instagram drew me bald Tori as a joke for my birthday and then I showed it to my friend @simpingnightmare and she drew me bald Tori as well ...

I debated if I should just rb the posts that reminded me to post these or make a new post and tag nopsi. On one hand I want to show them off but on the other I don't wanna tag anyone bc anxiety but uh idk if the target audience will see this if I don't so @no-psi-nan here u goooo <333

[rosicheeks]

Of course it's you I want to put a baby in, silly. You're cute and would make cute babies, and I know I'd breed you fully because if you squirt on my chest, I'll drive my cock into your womb so hard, you'll know the moment you get pregnant when I cum.

oh……. OH 👀👀👀👀👀👀

[danielpowell]

Every time I re-listen to Archive 81 Season 2 Episode 7 I feel like my brain is going to shatter because it's abundantly clear that Rat had no intentions of leaving with Dan and in saying he would 'if' Dan left, it nails the final nail in the coffin for me thinking Rat just wanted to convert Dan because he's clearly very lonely and misguided, but most importantly, actively detrimental to the point he was almost convinced that he could get Dan to leave his personhood behind

Rat took advantage of Dan and I struggle to see how this could be read any other way

[1driedpersimmon]

What are your favorite Deathnote ships if any :3

Ahahah

Well I mean I’m a fan of L x Light but like I want them to beat each other up you know?

Matsuda x ….like anyone actually, I think I just like Matsuda so when he’s shipped with anyone I’m like 🥰😍💕 heh… hehe…

Rem x Misa? I don’t see a lotta stuff about them but 😭 they could’ve been so good

That’s about it tho I don’t really “ship” a lotta people in dn 🤔

[wellfell]

don't you think that maybe you're here for a reason?

 ❛ if it's about some shitty love confession , i must say your taste sucks . ❜  something to lighten up her own mood , something to block out the throbbing of his head . a vein hammering against her temple and the left side of her throat , she closes her eyes . her hands are tied and she can't promise bertolt a kind akina . no , that girl was slowly dying ; peeling her skin off , revealing something much uglier with a sharper tongue . after all , apparently , men liked glaring women better and akina couldn't help to prove them wrong . hoover was into blondes , this was nothing about emotions and akina doubts she can pull that card on a quiet guy like him . but she can only tell the truth — eren is a gem , their little ticket of gold to whatever weird plan they had in mind , something akina didn't quite listen to when she was being taken away . but one thing she knows , is that her father sold ships and gold to reiss family and her mother was too friendly with lord reiss ( did it lead to others thinking she was another offspring of that asshole – ? ) . long ago , when she wasn't allowed to ask questions , when the world was too big to wander in it all alone . and akina did . ❛ i need water . when your friend comes back , tell him to stop fucking zoning out and give me his flask . ❜ she was under bertolt's care ; a quiet boy back then , now a terrifying monster . the angry boy was unconscious beside her foot , ymir was sitting quietly on the other side . there's no other choice but to let go of someone as useless as akina mori — or get rid of her . and two titans could do that without breaking a sweat . she licks her chapped lips , half tempted to kick eren from the wooden spot down into the mouth of a titan waiting beneath them , just to get a reaction from hoover . but she stays still , and finally lets her gaze rest on the boy . ❛ . . . you're not as skinny as i always imagined . ❜ a quiet comment , again , a tactic to distract herself from the pain because she was pretty sure the shifters were going to heal faster than her . too fast . her hooded gaze remains on bertolt , as she mumbles again ; ❛ and scared . ❜

  📼 starter.

[mushroom-for-art]

Me writing the most self indulgent shit ever known to mankind lmao, also known as putting May through the pain suffering just because but this time it's Digimon, featuring our favourite horrid REDACTED belonging to @oogaboogaspookyman, he's here to be a cunt really, this is pretty dialogue heavy as lmao its basically just him bullying the shit out of her at her weakest point and rambling about things that would've happened previously in the time line and discussing May's troubled relationship post digimon time lmao, again self indulgent I just had these really specific scenes and gotta get them out lmao

Corruption

Digital energy crackled and pixelated from the unusual vortex in front of them, the crowd hushed and murmured in terror as something from within the blackness pushed forwards through into their world. May put herself at the front of the group shielding her siblings from view the best she could as Lopmon stood by her feet, ears spread to look more intimidating. Dripping dark energy pushed from the portal as sparks of red lightning cracked and whipped around shorting nearby electrical appliances as an unfortunately, familiar grinning maws greeted them, it didn't even try to look humanoid as a mouth closed and opened into a black eye with a frantic white pupil. The pupil bounced around scanning over the horrified faces of the people as its many mouths pulled into delighted grins with teeth large and sharp, a deep echoing laugh coming from each mouth and even the visible eye as it surveyed the terror gladly eating it up before its eye fell upon the three siblings narrowing to a pinpoint before blowing wide in entertainment and excitement.

"How, small and pitiful you all look, my even tinier than you were before."

It's voice mocked from its eyeball, still laughing from its mouths, the eye blinked into a mouth as other mouths closed and opened into eyes scanning around in an erratic manner, though more so to make them uncomfortable, this beast didn't know fear.

"I bet I could splatter you like insects right now, decorate your disease ridden world with your bright gorgeous blood."

"Then why don't you, you Prick." May's voice was cold and sharp as she glared taking a challenging step forward, "oh yea I know why, because you can't interact with this world, your data is too much and you can't fully come through so you just sit there and taunt trying to make us scared, trying to terrify people while you plot a way into this world. It didn't work last time though did it? And I'm not going to fucking let you try again." An eye fell upon her watching her as its other mouths twisted and contorted out of shape.

"Then why don't you come and stop me?"

It asked simply as it started to pull backwards into the portal, the pavement splitting from the ground beginning to float as the portal moved awkwardly into the sky, the slabs of pavement swirling around it as the creature grinned at them.

"Well, digidestine? Can you stop me this time? Or have you already lost too much?"

As its form disappeared, May could only grit her teeth as Lopmon looked up at her for guidance.

"We can't go through that portal May, times synced now in the digital world, we'll lose real time here. Let some other people deal with it, we can't be the digidestine anymore." Her sister spoke behind her and May looked at in confusion and disbelief at what she was hearing, even Salmon looked uncomfortable at the idea they weren't going to do something nuzzling into her sisters leg, May opened her mouth to argue that there was no one else they'd met no other younger digidestine.

"No." Matts voice snapped, "look you might have gotten out of that ordeal fine 10 years ago, but some of us did lose too fucking much!" His voice was a snarl as he moved to touch where his lower arm had been removed from his body, Labramon whimpered against Matt as he crouched on the floor, guilt and shame washing through May making her heart hurt. "You might not be so lucky next time, I wasn't." His words stabbed into her as she looked at him, her sister nodded a bit awkwardly adding.

"We got really banged up last time, I mean, you've seen the scars I got, you've seen what happened to Matt, you got off easy but you're not indestructible." May's hands clenched into fists, their words becoming poisoned jabs, snide hateful remarks for years and years, snipping snapping biting into her over and over as her eyes became wet with frustration.

"Fine. I wasn't even going to fucking ask you to come. I'll fucking deal with this myself." She turned walking away from them quickly, "let the weakest link smash that cunts face in!" Her voice a frustrated yell as she leapt onto a floating pave slab with Lopmon leaping up behind her following.

"May don't be fucking stupid for once in your life!" Her sisters words fell on deaf ears as she leapt and flipped up the platforms with acrobatic precision, ignoring her sister cussing her out insulting her, as she got closer to the portal the air felt static like as Lopmon flew up besides her, digital energy engulfed them both as they disappeared through the dark of the portal.

The local advertising screens came to life displaying the digital island they'd found themselves upon years ago as Dianamon landed gracefully but with force. She walked with a dangerous tremor in her step, "Where are you?! Come out you coward. Let's end this!" May and Lopmons voice overlapped creating an almost new voice as they scowled around looking for the black ink beast. She heard him laughing before she saw him, barely dodging a large black spike that ripped through the ground and would have went right through her.

"My my, all on your own? No siblings to back you up? No lover? Oh yes I forgot, he replaced you didn't he?"

She slashed at him with her moon sickle slicing through the black inky body as the ink fell to the ground with a splat before crawling away to a larger mass of blackness as the creature took form again, still inhuman with eyes and teeth grinning at her. She lunged at him again swinging and striking with her weapon, retreating to draw back her bow and shoot arrows through his inky substance splatting it off and watching it disintegrate. She wasn't going to amuse his games. Despite her attacking he seemed pleased simply reforming lost mass to sustain himself as he dodged or allowed her to slash his form just to pull himself up somewhere else.

"I suppose it does make sense. I mean, you always held them together, you were the link in their chain that strengthened them and how do they respond to that?"

He laughed a wicked laugh as a morphed pale form of her sister pulled through the black slime walking towards her with hollow black eyes. When it spoke it used her voice, it sounded distant like a recording rather than the vocal mimicry it did for its usual voice.

"Why do you always ruin things for me?! You're so fucking selfish you know why are you even in this fucking contest?! You just want to show me up! And are you happy?! I only came second because you fucked with my brain! Why the fuck would you go 'best of luck sis', don't you have any idea how much fucking pressure that puts on me to perform well when I know you're just going to do better?! You're such a shitty person sometimes May, I wish you'd fucking disappear sometimes!!"

Her sisters voice screamed at her even if it felt distant, May leapt back as the fake hollow version of her sister collapsed into black sludge as his voice laughed mockingly before tutting.

"Aw, now that really wasn't very kind."

It doubled over on itself laughing as its mouths snapped with teeth and its eyes rolled around.

"I mean, she was right, you were always better at the gymnast stuff. That must put an awful lot of pressure on her, funny though, you never ever won, not even third."

It straightened to look at her twisting it's head as it leant forward, it's body turned to sludge by another swing of the moon blade but that didn't stop it talking.

"Kind of stupid of her not to notice, why did you never tell her huh? Why did you ruin your own performances with rookie mistakes on purpose to receive worse points when she hated you for even being there? For daring exist?"

She gripped her weapon tightly, not giving it the satisfaction of an answer as it cackled dark ink encircling her and grabbing at her ankles before she slashed it away and flew up to avoid his mocking grabs.

"Oh that's right, because you loved her or something. When was the last time she was kind to you May? When was the last time you felt loved by your sister and not just shame and hatred?"

Dianamon shook her head to rid his voice from her ears, she couldn't afford to think of individual components right now, she was Dianamon now, she can be May later, she couldn't risk dedigivolving and losing her advantage. It seemed to sense her struggling shooting up black tendrils that slammed her back into the ground with a sickening crunch of something and a horrid gasp of pain from the celestial Digimon as she forced herself to her feet before the ink tried to consume her.

"You really struggle and fight so much for people that seem to loathe you, most of the world doesn't know you exist and yet here you are fighting to try to save it, but when has the world ever done anything for you? I know none of you received acknowledgement for what happened ten years ago, doesn't that make your blood boil in rage? That you risked life and well, your brothers limb and all you got was the terror and fear screaming, crying for help as you cradled your unconscious brother as his arm bled new blood."

Its mouth quirked into a wicked smile as her expression darkened knowing it had touched a nerve. She slashed and attacked with everything she had yelling in anger and pain trying to destroy him as his corrupted data mass remained consistent allowing flecks to crumble away to make a form to be slashed to keep her eye to exhaust her as it laughed at her torment. From the ink a pale Matt formed looking at her with bleeding black eyes as it too approached her.

"Look you might have gotten out of that ordeal fine 10 years ago, but some of us did lose too fucking much!"

His voice was distant like a recording once more as it parroted back things that had been said. More and more words came from its blackened mouth phrases that she'd heard throughout the years since coming back, passive aggressive 'good for you's, snarly snapping remarks, and things she hadn't heard, spiteful bitter whispers of 'why me', a cold harsh 'it should have been her,' that made her throat go dry and heart almost clench as though grabbed and crushed, Dianamon couldn't afford to cry and yet her eyes watered and her grip on her weapon trembled.

Once more the pale clone copy collapsed back into the blackness as it taunted and laughed.

"What a cruel thing to say! He said it often as well, oh how he wished you had suffered instead of him, he thinks it's unfair, unjust, that he didn't deserve it, how funny he believes that you in turn did deserve it. Its quite funny actually! I suppose it's because you never told him the full truth did you? I mean, you wouldn't have dared he lost his arm. Who are you to tell him it was going to be worse? And that you stopped it being worse like some savior when he was going through such a horrible affair, you would've looked like quite the dick, I can understand why you kept it to yourself."

Dianamons made more empty slashes at her tormentor, snarling "JUST SHUT UP AND DIE! I'LL DESTROY US BOTH IF IT STOPS YOU FUCKING TALKING!!" But it only cackled at her swirling and forming eyes and taunting mouths as it without her knowledge began to destroy the data around them, disintegrating trees and rocks leveling the area slowly.

"How fittingly self-destructive. You always did value others more than yourself."

Another hollow pale form, this time herself, or well the form of May, Dianamon struggled to maintain its own identity as the voice of May parroted from the past spoke.

"Please god don't hurt him! He's my baby brother, please you can take anything from me, humans, we have all kinds of interesting organs! Yea yea, I'll trade you, you could have my kidney! And you give him back yes? Please, I am begging you please take from me don't hurt him my skin, my hair, my eyes, my lungs Fuck you could take my heart kill me right now just just please, please let him go, please, he means too much to me I will do anything just don't please don't take him from me please"

Dianamons eyes watered uncomfortably at sickening memories from the past, her brother unconscious as an Archnemon regards him for experimentation for devouring planning to hack him apart and then dissolve his flesh. The hollow stared forward and through her before screaming horribly as it was cut open by nothing, Dianamon tearing her eyes away cringing and exhaling a shaky breath through her nose at they remembered the sensation of large hands plunging into her guts and pulling out what it wanted, the carving of her organs and the teeth, the horrid teeth that sank into her wound ripping her flesh away from her body and the sickening enjoyment the Archnemon had taken from the experience, helplessly caught in the creature web, and then the guilt and horror as it took a cleavor and-

Dark tendrils slammed her chest sending her flying backwards hitting the ground and bouncing slightly as she cried out her weapon flying from her hands and disintegrating before it hit the ground as she weakly hauled herself into a kneel.

"That was a dirty move." She snapped, but her component's were struggling, tears ran out of one eye at the guilt of not being able to stop the twisted digimon from taking her brothers arm. It only laughed at her in enjoyment feeling her terror, guilt and pain with great satisfaction. She pulled herself to stand but her body was struggling, the phantom pains still ripping away at her body as she shuddered, she'd never told anyone about what happened, not the truth at least. Dianamon shook her head, May had never told anyone but she was not May right now.

Black ink shot out in the form of a large hand grabbing her body and began to squeeze before she could even move, her armor crushing uncomfortably into her body as the entity pulled itself up out the ink and took on a painfully familiar form, it copied the face and body of, someone May once cared deeply for, another crush from the hand engulfing her body and Dianamon faded. Lopmon fell to the ground with a weak groan as May remained crushed in the grip.

"Lopmon run!" May attempted to struggle as the tired rookie pushed itself to stand stumbling before the ink wrapped around its body dragging the bunny-like digimon by its ankles to the twisted form of May's old crush. They tried to attack, opening their mouth weakly to summon energy before the pale humanoid grabbed its mouth shut harshly with a snarl.

"Behave little one, would be a shame to destroy something that could be of use to me. Besides, i'll kill your human if you're a brat."

Lopmon whimpered but couldn't fight, too injured and tired from being Dianamon, and May was weakening too. It looked over at her and slowly the large hand pulled down into the earth releasing and leaving her standing though with difficulty she swayed and gave a weak glare as it scoffed at her before it was right in front of her with astonishing speeds it's pale hands grabbing her face, Lopmon tossed aside, as it arched over her threateningly, grinning with too many teeth at the wonderful fear from her.

"You've always intrigued me, such fight such love and for what?"

It's grip tightened threateningly on her face as she tried to pull away and shake her head sinking in claws to draw blood making her still as Lopmon was restrained in dark inky tendrils, the surroundings barren now save for his corrupting black ink.

"Don't make me pop out your eyeballs~"

It's tone faked sweetness as his thumbs pressed under her eyes threateningly.

"It's a shame he gave you up the way he did, choosing another woman while you were kept apart by distance, it's like everything you went through meant nothing to him, like he didn't care about the bantering you shared, the stories the company, do you think he thought of you as much as you him? It must hurt knowing you don't matter so much to someone, that they can replace you just like that."

A finger snapped for emphasis on another arm before it disappeared, his tone was quieter than usual it was almost sympathetic comforting as her eyes began to water against her control, tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe, all the repressed feelings all the times she made herself be strong crashing down on her so now she was weak, bubbling pathetically under her worst enemies watching gaze as she cried against her control. She was unloved and despised, she wasn't enough for the people she cared deeply about and she couldn't stop him she couldn't protect them she couldn't save the world from his plans to destroy it and now he was going to kill her, and the worst part was she was alone. The people she loved weren't coming to save her. Her breathing choked as her knees felt weak. She wanted to rip his hands from her face to just collapse and cry to pull her eyes away but he held her firm and her eyes were locked to his.

"Sweet little thing, all alone and unloved. You tried so hard to be the best you could be and to be good enough, you sacrificed so much of yourself, didn't you?"

She choked a breath, her head nodding against her control as her knees gave out and desperately grabbing at his arms fearing that she would fall and he would simply pull and rip her head from her body, but the tug never came, his hands didn't move as she gripped to him weakly her body slightly limp as his thumbs wiped against her cheeks in a way that was almost soothing if she wasn't so terrified for why he was acting this way, she was so so tired, every moment her energy seemed to be sapped. Was this his plan? Cradle her till she expired, taking her life energy? Maybe he was going to take her body upon her last breath turning her into a puppet to get to the real world. She could only fear more at every passing second.

She could feel the ink starting to crawl up her body, oh god he was going to turn her into a flesh puppet for his data. She didn't even have the energy to struggle.

"You're so tired aren't you? So tired of not being enough for some people, tired of hurting in silence, tired of thinking, tired of existing, tired of hurting because of other people. You just want to stop thinking don't you? Stop worrying, stop hurting. I can make all that go away, empty your mind of all that aching all that anguish, I wouldn't hurt you like he would. "

As she stared up at him his face began to slowly slide off and melt almost before his face fell and splattered black flesh and liquid right onto her face, she gasped in horror choking on the foul ink as it slid down her throat and up her nose and crawled into her eyes, she tries to struggle but her body couldn't move wanting to cough up the black corruption but only choking further as he threw his body backwards to howl in laughter removing his hands from her face as she collapsed from choking and the blackness already wrapped around her legs. He watched her spluttering on the floor on her back, black liquid bubbling up out her mouth as she choked and her eyes turned black, the corruption engulfed her pulling her down into itself with only a few bubbles as the last of her breath was taken. The creature grinned as its form became twisted once more, despising the humanoid guise it needed to use.

He hadn't been lying, he had always been intrigued by that one, she was just so corruptible, pushed to the edge of darkness by those around her every day, they really did all the hard work for him. Once he was through with her well he could have his fun before disposing of the last of the filth known as humanity, but until then he now held a very powerful ace, a Kelpymon and a digidestine corrupt to his whim. It glanced over to a patch of pixelated space, knowing the human world could see him and could only grin as the fear, they were right to be afraid of him. He slashed his claw through it ending the connection, laughing to himself, he shouldn't have been surprised by the lack of help really, May was the link that strengthened the chain, with her gone well all that was left was the coward and the clown, as for his human guise well he had his own better life now, why would he risk it. What a blight on this world. Selfish creatures. Horrid creatures. Oh well. They'll all get what they deserve.

[sluttish-armchair]

Me: “I’m going to stop procrastinating and read The Invisible Man this weekend.”

Me, not even a day later: “Hehehehe Fahrenheit 451 go BRRRRRRR”

[herotune]

guess who! 👽💃

[isaacathom]

actually uyeah im bored im gonna run it down. what specific Thing does naielle have with (pretty much) every member of her family that has her fucking wracke with guilt or smth

At a very basic level, a context - naielle comes from an elf napoleonic france, with some specific details that the usual max lifespan is closer to 500, and that the emperor has no heir and is like. 450. i wrote it down somewhere. doesn't matter. So naielle, being exiled from elf france, very early on made the assumption that she could Wait Out the collapse of it. That the emperor would die in, yknow, 50 years, the power vacuum would be contested by every general and cousin and random former nobleman, and the country would be ripped apart, nullifying her exile by technicality. this established,

Saroel - Naielle's grandmother, 495.

Naielle loves her grandmother. She's this wise and cunning lady, who survived the turmoil of Bonaparte's rise to power by making deals and using the family's noble fortune to buy favour. Her husband died in the post-rise period, and Saroel didn't. She bought the life of her and her children when her husband was accused of treason. She's clever.

Naielle has her engagement ring, a gold band designed to snugly fit under a wedding ring, a piece of jewellery older than the empire itself. Naielle used it as a blueprint to craft a pair to it, and matching wedding rings, with which to propose to her girlfriend Xistina.

If Naielle waits out the empire's demise, she'll never see her grandmother again. Never be able to tell her she was right when she told Naielle to be careful about her historical research, or show her the now complete wedding ring. She'll never get to hug her one last time and be enveloped in a stiff embrace that smells of old pines and old times, like the oils of the paintings and brass of the sculptures that make up the universities museums, of the motar that keeps its bricks together.

Laucian - Naielle's father, 333

Naielle is a daddy's girl. She's her father's son, without question or ambiguity. She's got his square chin, his broad nose, his golden eyes, his curly hair (albeit lighter than his - her mother got lucky with that). She's got his passion for history and all that came before, for the nebulous space of was and may have been.

For Naielle's 100th birthday, Laucian gave her a red ribbon. He's not from a noble background, rising from the peasantry with a father in the military and a mother a nursemaid. He has no heirlooms to grant. But the red ribbon, Naielle thinks, is just as meaningful as the engagement ring, because it's a connection to that paternal grandmother, Shana. She was a hard worker, stern with her charges and utterly doting on her own children, sneaking small things from the noble houses she served to give them. She wore her hair in intricate braids, which she taught Laucian and his brother how to do, and she tied them, always, with red ribbon. It was her favourite colour, she'd say.

Shana died when Laucian was only 24. A child, in elf terms. He's worn a red ribbon ever since, 300 years, for longer than Shana was even alive, in her memory. And he hands this down to his daughter, who takes after him so strongly, and in whose smile he can undoubtedly see his mother's.

Naielle adores her father. She fears, down to the bone, that she has disappointed him. That in her exile she has perverted the passion they share for history, turned it into a reminder of the crushing weight of the empire. That she's ruined something.

She still wears the ribbon in honour of a woman she never met. She never learnt her braids.

Oriphira - Naielle's mother, 321

She didn't inherit any particular gift from her mother - Saroel's engagement ring was a joint gift, a blessing for such an item to skip a generation to find itself on Naielle's finger.

They haven't always been close. Oriphira inherited her own mother's preservative streak, an understanding that the family exists at a knife edge between imperial eradication and flourishing, and a single wrong move could damn them. She grew up in that tumultuous era. She would have watched her father die, or march to die, dragged from their home by imperial troops. She would have seen the pathetic graves for him and his brother, her beloved uncle, and known they should not lie there. That a family mauseleum lay open and expecting, and would recieve naught. That they were disgraced. That it was only Saroel's cunning which saved the life of her and her younger sibling.

Oriphira has seen her family's birthright, such that nobility can claim it, ripped from their grasping hands. She's clawed for every inch back. She's fought for the university Saroel used to buy their freedom. She's fought for the healers and medical practicioners to return to her town in the post-revolutionary period, as she watched her own child die of a preventable childhood infection, watched her sibling die of a stomach left to fester and rot without aid. She's seen the gods abandon that town, and she's filled that void.

She's a tough woman, and she is tough to love. Naielle does all the same. She may not have understood it then, the depths of the sacrifices her mother had made for them all, the agony she must have gone through with every child thereafter. The ingrained fear of heights, inherited in most of her children, after another fell from the roof.

But Naielle gets it now. Now that she fights in a war in a different land for its very existence, she finds that common ground. The two fight a war for their continued existence.

And Naielle imperilled it, didn't she? By raising imperial ire, a century after they last turned their baleful gaze Odelia-ward. By reminding that families like theirs, descendant from noble excess, can still be a threat.

She doesn't know what lengths her mother went to in order to keep them all safe after she left. She supposes the military service of her siblings may have shielded the family. But she knows her mother calculated the loss, and weighs that debt on Naielle's soul.

She wishes she could tell her she gets it, or thinks she does. That she understands the responsibility her mother is unjustly laden with. The blood on both their hands.

Aedelie - Naielle's older sister, 201

Naielle and Aedelie have almost a century in age between them, and its a very different dynamic than to any of their other siblings. Aedelie has to carry that torch, borne by Saroel and Oriphira, of being the responsible one. Being measured, and careful, and keeping everyone safe.

And Naielle always felt very safe. Her older sister was gentle and kind, a bulwark against anything that might hurt her. No monster under the bed would dare lay a finger on her when they knew Aedelie was never far, and even when Aedelie enlisted in the army she left her strength with them.

Aedelie's married, you know. She married a human man around 5 years ago, a fellow soldier in her cavalry unit. They have a little elf daughter, cherubic and giggly, just 2 years old with a wide toothy grin. Or so Naielle's been told.

If she waits out the collapse, she might never even meet her brother-in-law, a kind and soft-spoken man with a reflexes of an acrobat and hair like beach sand. She might never meet the man who makes her stern sister smile softly, with eyes that sparkle. A man whose duty, such that it is, is to protect Aedelie's life with his own.

Naielle is terrified for them both. War wages, and the Empire swings the proverbial club high overhead and demands blood, and her sister and brother-in-law must provide. None of them might see the two of them again. Forget the mortality of a human, anyone is mortal in the line of fire. And Naielle happens to know of a weapon, currently travelling by sea towards that firing line, and she fears what will happen when it goes off.

Quenaris - Naielle's older twin brother, 122

What can you say about a twin that isn't obvious? Peas in a pod, identical up until their mid 30s when he shot up like a stalk and left her a few inches shorter. The two know each other better than anyone else, Naielle is certain. She knew his adult name long before he told anyone, and he hers. She is him, and he is her, and they're two halves of a great whole.

Quenaris knew something was wrong, didn't he? That Naielle was lying when she said she had everything under control. That Naielle was hiding something, sparking like a fire in a cave, desperately being smothered. He saw the glitter in her eyes and knew it wasn't emotion that shone through, even if he couldn't identify the source.

She told him everything was fine. She didn't apologise for lying when it became clear it wasn't. That the situation had spiralled out of her control, that her warlock pact - a grave illegality as it stood - had shown her things she shouldn't see, and sent a beacon to the empire to observe.

He knew she lied. And she couldn't apologise, because to stay and do so would have seen her treason identified and laid bare before the Empire's vast apparatus. It would see her killed. She had to flee.

It ate her alive, it truly did. She didn't know how much he knew, how much he held against her.

She was lucky enough to see him, for only a few minutes. To hold him tight, as though by a hug they might be one and whole, and to cry, and tell him she was sorry. That he accepted her hug, and shed tears of his own, is enough for her.

It would still hurt if she never saw him again. Less, maybe, now that she knows he misses her too. Or more, to have given him a glimmer of hope that things might be normal in the future. She's scared of facing his ghost centuries from now.

Mariela - Naielle's younger sister, 110

Where do you even start?

These sisters have never been close. Each claims the other is irresponsible, too easily distracted, too something. There's always something wrong. Naielle isn't patriotic enough, Mariela is too patriotic. Naielle is too wrapped up in her books and shit that happened centuries ago, and Mariela is too concerned with her magic and the things that will happened soon, months and years in the future.

They're similar, and very different.

Naielle had no particular feeling towards her sister when she was forced to flee. To never see her again would hurt, but not as much as with others, a feeling tempered by the knowledge that Mariela would have some snide remark or another on her return. She lied to Mariela, but Mariela wouldn't care, would she? Naielle can't fathom the idea that Mariela cared either way, beyond that Naielle had embarrassed them.

Then Naielle came back, briefly, briefly, just to marry her fiance, and got roped into capturing Mariela.

What's Mariela been doing? Well, she'd taken what remained of Naielle's notes, on old histories and the magic so thusly entwined, and turned it into a weapon. A different weapon entirely, one worse than most others, and which Mariela saw simply as a tool. Naielle was a fool, she said, to focus on the historical implications of her research, and not to use its practical benefits. Look what lies in our grasp - the power to unravel reality!

Naielle was furious. She took Mariela as a prisoner of war.

And then her patron took her as a warlock.

It was not willing - Mariela made no deal, was offered no bargain she could stomach. Her will was superseded, Naielle's consent to the idea assumed, and her body made to channel magic it rejected.

Naielle did this. She did not know it would happen, had not even considered the possibility, wanted none of it. Mariela will probably never believe her.

It doesn't matter what Naielle thinks of Mariela's original ideas, her plans to turn utter destruction into a military tactic. It doesn't matter the differences of their personalities, that the two don't get along. Naielle did this. She forced this on her sister, intentionally or not, and she intends to make it right.

She expects she'll never right her initial mistake, the pact that brought her into exile in the first place. She fears she'll not right this. But it's in her power to do so, and whether Mariela wants her there or not, Naielle will fix it. Naielle would betray almost anyone to fix what she's done, burn most any bridge, because it almost isn't about Mariela anymore. It's a proxy for every mistake she's ever made, every harm she's brought, a way to try and make up for the life she ruined for herself by ever doing this.

If all goes well, Mariela will go home. Naielle can only hope she understands how much that means.

Yivien - Naielle's younger brother, 104

Probably the person for whom Naielle has the least consideration, a fact that would invariably infuriate the poor boy. The two have somewhat less in common than Naielle to Mariela, but do have one key thing - their academic focus. While Naielle is a historian, Yivien is an architect, and spent much of his youth fighting for their father's attention, to little success. Naielle was his daughter, following in his footsteps - Yivien's achievements weren't as important.

If Naielle was honest, and looked critically at herself, she would concede that Yivien is the smarter sibling. His grades are better, his grasp of abstract fundamentals stronger, he's quicker on the draw. It isn't fair, she reckons, that she was given that attention. The boy earned it, or ought have done.

She would struggle to tell him that. She doesn't think its pride - she never said she was the smartest sibling. What she struggles with is the idea that she needs to correct it, when surely, that burden lies with her parents for not acknowledging him better when she was around. Did she hog their attention? She isn't sure.

But as days grow darker, and doom grows nearer, she wonders if she should have said it anyway. Care or not, guilty or otherwise, he deserved their attention, and it was denied him. And she's responsible, in some capacity. Shouldn't she have tried to fix it? To say she was sorry?

The longer it goes, the more she thinks maybe she means it sincerely this time.

Xistina - Naielle's wife, 135

God, what could she say to her that she hasn't said already? Her most dearly beloved, a part of her soul, the keeper of her heart in turmoil. They've known each other nearly a century, and Naielle can only hope for centuries more.

Xistina wasn't in the country when Naielle went into exile. She was on business, sailing the sea, plying wares and doing trade under the gleaming sun. She would not hear news for months, till she landed in a bustling port and spotted no beaming face amidst the crowd, no-one all but ready to leap aboard before a gangplank was ever lowered. Naielle didn't know what she'd heard. She wished, dearly, that Xistina could have heard it from her.

She doesn't know what Xistina knew. She doesn't know if her fiancee saw the stars in her eyes and saw the meaning behind them. She spent years in dread. At least her siblings, her family, heard of the matter directly, that she'd had a feeble chance to defend herself in the hours before she fled. Xistina knew naught, and could learn less, and Naielle could not reach out for fear of potential consequence. Her fiance could not be party to treason. Her distance would keep her safe.

Her fiancee knew more than she thought, had an ear to the ground and the sea, and loved her still. She wore Saroel's ring proudly as a token of their love, and kept it in care over the decades.

Xistina knows it all, now. Naielle travelled across the planes to see her, to know her truly, all secrets bared on both sides. Pirate and Warlock, Traitor and Traitor. Let the empire declare their treason in love if they wish, for she has it.

And it scares her to think she might let it go. That, having come so close, having even successfully married her after decades apart, that they might lose it all. And that it will be Naielle's fault in totality. Her fault for her treason, her fault for leaving for the distant lands, and her fault for not staying when she had the chance. Who better could have ferried a wanter criminal than a rebel corsair? Where else could Naielle find that kind of safety? And yet she left, for she felt a duty to a war that still wages, and she knows there's a chance she will never return. That she will have given her wife - her wife! - false hope of a future together, of merry centuries in a free Sylvian land, or aboard a ship in the glittering sky, where no mortal government dared tread.

She fears she's given her wife a lie, and did not know it when she spoke.

[mahgyu]

──── In the beginning of your relationship, you learned that Satoru was the type who liked to sleep cuddling. Before meeting you, Satoru used to sleep hugging a pillow, even. It wasn't exactly a necessity for him, but just something he liked and that made him fall asleep faster. You, on the other hand, weren't exactly that type.

Hugs before sleeping? Perfect. Having someone on top of you while trying to sleep? Not so perfect. Fortunately, the two of you reached an agreement about that.

But sometimes, like today, Satoru was extremely clingy. He was sleeping deeply, with his body completely on top of yours, his face buried in the curve of your neck, and a leg trapped between yours.

You loved holding him that way, having the strongest man you had ever known so vulnerable curled up in your arms and sleeping peacefully. Satoru slept heavily when he felt that comfortable, and the deeper he slept, the heavier he became on you. As mentioned, your boyfriend is a strong guy, so now it was almost uncomfortable for you.

You feel this pressure against your chest as he rests on you, completely at ease. You thought that maybe, if you tried hard enough, you could fall asleep, but no, it’s not possible.

"Baby..." You whisper, hoping it will be enough to wake him, but he just keeps snoring, each snore reverberating through your body.

"Toru...?" You try again, a little louder.

"SATORU!" Still nothing. He barely moves a bit in his sleep, letting out a particularly loud snore.

OK. Plan B. If you can't get him off, it's time to slide down. Only after two unsuccessful attempts, you somehow manage to do it, taking a big breath as you escape. You haven't even fully turned to the side when Satoru wakes up, confused and abandoned, with the source of warmth under him gone. He moves his hand aimlessly over the sheets until he feels you.

"Where are you going?" He murmurs sleepily, moving closer to you. "No..." A heavy arm wraps around you, pulling you back to him with ease. There’s a soft hum as he feels your body fit into his.

"Toru?" You call him sweetly. "You know I can't sleep like this, hmm? Come on." You pat his arm, signaling for him to let you go.

Satoru doesn't move. Instead, he just makes some whiny sounds before rubbing his face in your hair.

"Come on, let me go, please?" More pleading.

"Nuh-uh, I don't want to." He whines. "Hug me." He pouts, looking so needy and neglected.

"Love, you're acting like a baby" You complain.

"Because I am. I'm your baby!" He says defiantly. "So, you should treat me like one."

At this point, you know it won't help to try to convince him when he's in this mood. You sigh, deciding to give up and give in.

About five minutes pass in complete silence and then Satoru quietly asks: "You really can't sleep?" The thought of this now bothers him. How could he relax knowing that you're not even comfortable?

"Mhm" You respond as he pulls separates from you.

"OK, I'll give up the hug time for you!" He sighs, rolling away from you dramatically. A few minutes later, he sighs again, a bit louder.

This is his cue to tell you that you should give in and cuddle with him. But you can't, having finally found a position that relaxes all the right places in your body, perfect for falling asleep.

"Are you really going to leave me abandoned?" His voice is so stupidly captivating that it makes you melt. You can't say no to that.

Satoru smiles when he hears the rustling of the sheets, your body moving toward him.

With open arms, he welcomes you back as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I can sleep like this..." You admit as he smiles, making sure you're comfortable but still wrapped up in him.

Hiii, long time no see, uh? 👀This time I brought something cute, a thought I had because I've been feeling so needy and missing our Gojo😞

(It is not well corrected, please ignore any possible mistakes.)

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome. 🫶🏻💕

⠀

[sebscore]

Forget the wags, could you write something about all the drivers having massive small crushes on reader and like there’s loads of edits on social media of them looking at her with heart eyes or just general ship edits or I mean ship fan fiction that they have to read in a team challenge or something..👀

LATE NIGHT TALKING

pairings: f1 drivers x driver!reader (indirectly)

warnings: swearing. drunk drivers. lando talking about a woman.

author’s note: I AM BACK FINALLY! also I wrote this in my notes app so pls be patient 😭😭 and this is probs the closest thing I’ll ever write to romance for this series lol

masterlist

“Out of all the drivers, who would you date?” Pierre drunkenly, almost-giggly, asked the question to his fellow colleagues.

Charles, George, Lando, Alex, Carlos and Yuki nervously laughed at the shit-faced Frenchman in front of them.

“Out of the entire grid?” Charles wanted clarification.

Pierre nodded. “Like hypothetical, if none of us had partners.” He quickly added.

A silence followed. The seven men thinking of all the possibilities.

“I mean…” Lando was the first one to speak up, every head in the hotel room shooting up at him,

“and this stays between us, right?” He followed up, needing reassurance from the others, who swiftly nodded their heads.

“If like, I was single, and I could only date one of the drivers… I would date Y/N.” He confessed.

His words were met with choruses of “same” and “me too”. A small, relieved sigh left Lando’s mouth at the others’ agreement.

“Yeah, you guys are cool and all, but Y/N’s the right answer.” George snickered, awkwardly avoiding eye-contact with the group.

Charles hummed. “I’m also choosing her, but you know, cause I’m not, uh…”

“For the other side of the street?” Alex laughed, taking a swig from his drink.

“Yeah.” The Monegasque’s dimples made an appearance, grinning towards the Williams driver.

“I think she would rather die than date one of you guys.” Carlos said, matter-of-fact.

Charles, George and Lando gave him an unimpressed look, despite knowing he was speaking nothing but the truth.

“She would date me!” The McLaren driver tried saving his own ego and pride.

“She would not.” The six others immediately shot him down.

Lando scoffed at that, sitting up more straight on the bed. “Why? It’s like textbook childhood friends to lovers, or whatever Lily said at that party once.”

“You kinda sound like you want to date her.” Pierre made eyes at him, causing the younger man to lightly push him away.

“I don’t! But I’m just a little offended that you guys don’t think I could, like, you know… bag her.”

“Bag her? She’s not a fucking product.” Alex judged his choice of words, a slight disgusted expression on his face.

“You know what I mean, Albon.” Lando brushed it off, not having bad intentions. “I just think she would be a nice girlfriend to have.”

“I think so too,” Charles agreed, “she’s a lot of fun.”

“I mean- you would never get bored with her.” George hesitantly added to the conversation, feeling a little uneasy about imaging himself with his colleague.

“True.” The seven of them chorused.

“Hey, maybe we should change the topic- it’s getting weird…” Carlos suggested. The atmosphere in Charles’ large hotel room having changed drastically ever since the question had been asked.

“Yeah, good idea.” Lando cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting on the bed.

“I would choose Pierre to date.”

“Yeah, we know, Yuki.”

[kisakis-boyfriend]

might i request reader fucking boothill after they take off his arms and legs? he's got mechanical limbs, so it won't really hurt and they can be put back on again, but like. the brainrot. he'd look so cute fr fr ♦️

Author's Note: You must also be a mind reader, because I have been plagued with all sorts of scenarios like this. Either with a robot/android character having their innards played with, or robot/android reader. — All of that to say; I went with a mechanic reader doing some maintenance on Boothill, and things get a lil spicy 👀 (ended up making the reader a bit southern too??)

Pairings: Boothill x male reader

Warnings: Male mechanic!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Boothill, robo sex, robo genital functions, Boothill's goofy swearing, fingering, grinding, mild objectification

“What seems to be the problem?” You ask. The man on the other side of the desk rolls his shoulder back a few times, complaining of some joint issues.

“Alrighty, follow me. I'll take a look at'cha”

The cowboy follows you into an examination room. Various posters are taped to the walls — cheesy motivational posters and diagrams of machinery, mostly. He comments on them, saying that he appreciates a place like this, as opposed to the squeaky clean shops he'd been referred to previously. You chuckle and thank him for the compliment.

Some tools are pulled out and placed on a workbench next to the table. As you're prepping things, you tell your customer to remove any articles of clothing and have a seat on the table.

“Well shoot, at least take me to dinner first, darlin'!” He teases, smirking at you when you slowly turn your head around and playfully squint your eyes at his remark. Still, he does as he's told, and removes his cropped top, pants, hat. Literally everything is off, and he takes his seat, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“Lift this arm for me. Ok good. Now the other one.” You instruct him through a simple visual check. All four of his limbs seem to stutter through their movements, acting worse when he tries to rotate his legs.

“Ok... Um, I think this'll be an easy fix, but uh...”

“But what?”

“I... am going to need to detach all of your limbs to fix you–”

—

While your customer was clearly not used to a procedure like this one, he did a wonderful job of following your instructions so as not to damage anything while you're removing his appendages. All four of them detach smoothly, and you set them aside on a spare table until you'll need them again. With the heavy lifting out of the way, you're ready to go in for the delicate work of recalibrating his connecting joints.

“You know, you're probably one of my best customers.” you say as your fingers tug on one of the small wires buried deep within his hip socket, “Most people aren't too keen on doing it all at once. And even when it's two at a time, they squirm and babble anxiously.”

Boothill inhales sharply as the sensation of your hands literally inside of him stirs something within his belly. His lower lip is scored with the marks from his sharp teeth.

You tighten a few of the mechanisms in there, and he prays that you keep your eyes on your work, otherwise you'd see how stupid he must look as his eyelids droop and his mouth opens in a silent moan. It's taking all of his willpower to hold those sounds in.

“Geez, this one is crazy loose… do you uh, have regular maintenance done? Because you really sh-”

As you grip another wire and pull it, a compartment on Boothill's crotch suddenly opens up, revealing a fleshy, dripping hole.

If the cowboy still had legs at the moment, he'd be trying to close them and hide his arousal from you. Already, his breathing has become ragged and heavy, on the verge of making other, lewder sounds…

“Ah! O-oh I am so sorry–”

“Naw, s'okay…” Boothill slurs before the beginning of a moan, futilely attempting to hold composure that is clearly long gone by this point. He can't really buck his hips, but you can tell that that's what he's trying to do. You take the hint, and curiously move between his legs- or, what would be the area between his legs, anyway. He gives you permission immediately, almost begging to have this spot touched.

It's… strangely soft… humanlike in both appearance and touch. It's unclear whether this is human flesh or synthetic, but realistic flesh. Whatever it is, it has nerve endings of some variety, because Boothill whimpers as you prod around the edges of the opening. More liquid oozes out as you toy with him, gasping ooh's and aah's with a curious grin on your face. It's so much that you need to grab a couple towels and place them under his hips so it doesn't drip everywhere or seep into his open sockets. Seriously, it's like a waterfall after a couple minutes…

“You're sure this is ok? I'd hate to make you uncomfortable…”

The hole between his hips pulsates, opening up just slightly, as if it's inviting you inside.

“Darlin', please– you already had yer fingers inside of me today, just… put 'em back in.” The cowboy whines. And if a customer needs a little extra service, who are you to ignore them? Especially one as gorgeous as Boothill.

A rush of the sticky liquid comes pouring out when you push two fingers inside of his pretty hole.

“Fuck, not that I get around much, but I've never seen someone get so damn wet just from my fingers before. Is it always like this?”

A quiet 'mm-mm' is his response. His head flies to either side as your fingers sink in up to the knuckle, effortlessly, thanks to his built-in lube. His hair is hanging off the other end of the table, swooshing around every time Boothill flings his head around. It's so pretty, you really wish it was between your fingers right now…

For now, your focus comes back to the multitude of wet noises coming from Boothill's hole. The towels under him have long since soaked up everything spilling from his entrance.

“M-more… gimme more–!!” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Removing your fingers, his hole squirts out a bit of liquid, and he resembles a sad puppy until he notices you removing your clothes. When your hard-on is more visible, Boothill drools at the sight.

You free your cock and give it a few pumps, licking your lips as your eyes flick between the cowboy's fleshy entrance and his sweaty face. He returns your gaze with his own obvious lust, lolling his tongue out once you touch him again.

It's incredibly soft and wet on your dick. You rub your length against the opening a few times, grinding against him and imagining how it will feel once you're inside–

“Shi- fuck! Mm that's tight, cowboy. Holy shit.” You exclaim, almost going cross-eyed from pleasure as his hole squeezes you so good. It doesn't take long for you to grab his hips and thrust like your life depends on it.

“Goddamn, yer like some hi-tech fleshlight! Oh yeah, take that dick! Take it, slut.” Mechanical wheezing is the only sound coming from Boothill now, unable to speak as you pound his hole mercilessly. In a moment of animalistic lust, you crawl up on the table and fuck him like a sex doll, curling over his body with your own and pistoning your hips, drilling into his gushing entrance as he squirts heavily.

You groan right into his ear, “M'gonna cum in you now- is that ok?” Boothill rapidly shakes his head, shivering at the way your breath hits his earlobe. Within seconds you're fucking your seed further into his squishy hole, ramming in so deep you make the cowboy's eyes roll completely back, and he exhales a shaky “Fork yeah~”. It's hard not to chuckle at the ridiculousness of what he said, but coming down from your high takes most of your energy — including the energy to realize that this man did just say "fork yeah" when you came inside of him……

His hole is still greedily sucking your juices in, and you can already feel yourself humping the glorified fleshlight that is your customer. Needless to say, this repair will take longer than you planned…